Pancakes: The New Rocket Science

Every time I order something at the Scoreboard Grill in the Cougareat, I am impressed.

With the incompetence of the student employees making my food.

Every time, I hope it will be different--that I won't need to muster every ounce of restraint to keep myself from yelling "Hey! You're not dismantling an atomic bomb. You're making pancakes for two people with PREPARED BATTER. It shouldn't take four people nine minutes to do this."

But every time, it does.

Yet I, ever the glutton for punishment, went to Scoreboard today for pancakes after finishing a 7AM final exam. After I'd given birth to my second child, my food was up. But something was wrong.

No syrup? This is America. Pancakes and syrup are not mutually exclusive. When have you ever gone to an IHOP and not had at least THREE flavors of syrup ON YOUR TABLE. You hand me syrup-less pancakes and expect me to carry on normally? Is this a joke?

I politely asked for syrup. A student employee responded "Absolutely! Guys, can somebody grab me a syrup?" with a cheery smile. I watched in awe as the following scene unfolded before my eyes:

1. The guy who said "Absolutely!" exerted all his faculties in scrambling an egg.
2. Another idled at the cash register.
3. One wiped down a counter.
4. Another dithered about aimlessly trying to look busy.

Any rational person could ascertain that none of the above activities would have been grossly inconvenienced by a brief syrup-retrieving intermission. I thought about piping up, but I was truly interested in just how long this dazzling display of dimwittedness could go on for.

Six minutes.

Finally, a fellow sufferer waiting in line commented "Uh . . . dude, are you going to get her syrup?"

I sat down at a table to eat my now-cold meal. My bacon was undercooked.